‘I mean, you can’t deny that Evie treats youpreferentiallybecause you’re both. . . you know. . .’
‘You think Evie treats me well because I’m Black?’ I ask bluntly, saying the quiet part out loud since she won’t.
Her eyes widen, breath hitching as soon as the words land, and a rosy, panicked hue starts to rise up her face.
‘No, no, but the dresses, the overnights, the days out of work, the fancy meals. . .’
She looks over to Gus, for help, I assume, but he won’t look up. He, if I’m not mistaken, looks quite disgusted.
‘I’m running her event. I’ve seen you do all that and more with clients,’ I say.
‘Well, yeah, but. . .’ She casts about for something to say, before snapping at me, ‘I’m head of the department, Maddison.’
This is usually the part where I drop her snide remarks and move on. But not today. Today I have nothing to lose.
‘And?’ I ask.
‘The fact you’re running this event in the first place is just. . .’ She trails off once again, aware that, in a world with HR, she should probably stop while she still can. But she’s already said more than enough for me. I unzip the rucksack at my feet, digging around inside before finding one sharp corner. I clasp the envelope firmly between my fingers, the paper cold and calming to the touch, before dropping it in Pippa’s lap. I was going to wait until tonight, but I guess if there’s one thing Ican thank her for, it’s making this part so much easier to follow through on.
‘What is this?’ she asks, ripping it open.
‘My letter of resignation.’
After four years of bogus tasks and stagnant progression, an email seemed so lacklustre. I needed to see her open it, read it, and look her in the eye so I knew there was no going back.
‘Maddison,’ she says. ‘You don’t have to—’
‘Yes, I do,’ I say firmly. I can see Gus try to hide his smile.
‘Is this about money?’ she whispers, leaning forward. ‘If your new job is offering you more, we can match it.’
‘There is no other job.’
‘OK, so you want more money. Fine. We’ll book a meeting in for Monday, get that sorted asap.’
She types into her phone fervently, the meeting invite buzzing through to mine within seconds. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
‘Pippa, it’s not needed. I’ve already started on a comprehensive handover,’ I say. ‘I can even help you look for my replacement.’
‘You can’t leave!’ she says, her voice growing higher by the minute. ‘We won’t find a replacement quick enough.’
She’s right– they won’t find anyone who will put up with as much nonsense for as little pay. In fact, the more I dwell on it, the sourer I feel about fact I’ve spent four years of my life with them.
She grabs my hand. Her grip is cold, just like the look behind her eyes. ‘I’m serious, Maddison. You and I, we’ve been through so much. You can tell me if something else has come up.’
The desperation on her face almost makes me feel sorry for her. But then I remember what she’s put me through over the years and the little I’ve got in return, and that feeling dries up long before it has time to settle.
‘Pippa, HR already have my resignation email. I am leaving.’ My tone is final.
I try to wriggle my hand out of her tight squeeze, but her grip grows vice-like as she looks me over.
‘So, you’d rather be unemployed?’ she asks grimly.
A scary word. A fear tactic, meant to push me back down. A few months ago, it most definitely would have worked. But I have a new voice in my ear and it’s saying jump, no matter what liesbelow.
‘I’ll figure it out.’
And for once, I genuinely believe I will. The thought sits with me, swells, filling me with peace. I will figure it out. No matter what happens, I will be all right.
